if i can let you go as trees let go
by nyoengland
Summary: During the autumns of their childhoods, Arthur learns to sacrifice for his family as they have for him, while Alfred learns to deal with overwhelming loss and a Mark. an omake/prequel to the fic Castle of Cards.


so this omake is both an apology (for vanishing for 3 weeks and not delivering any omakes contrary to mentioning them), and a thank you for nearing 100 chapters, 350k+ words and 600+ reviews!

the title is taken from "autumn sonnets" by may sarton. this is a omake/slight prequel set in my Suits AU, set in the autumn where Arthur and Alfred are 10 and 11 respectively, then another autumn when they are slightly older.

 **as always, i do not own hetalia. it belongs to himaruya hidekaz.**

* * *

The day they found it in the mail was a sunny one, punctuated with Dylan's cries in the nursery and Allistor's worn boots clumping on the surface of their worn stone path as he pushed open the rotting wooden gates to their tiny cottage at home.

"Allistor!" Erin called, her brown hair tied up in a messy bun. She was clearly annoyed at the time it took him to come home, but how could she complain? Cormac was doing all the cooking, anyway. "Are Christian and Arthur back from their trip?"

"Aw, sis, no thanks for earning most of the money for the family?" he teased, sticking out his tongue. Erin slapped him on the shoulder in return – but it was just another usual form of banter in the packed Kirkland house.

"Please tell me you asked them to buy those carrots I've been asking about for weeks, because the soup's already done," Cormac said lowly, running his hand droopily through his mousy hair, identical to Erin's. Ever sinc e their parents had both passed away – Mother first to the sickness that claimed their unborn sibling as well, and Father of starvation. The doctors had said a severe infection that he had contracted while working in the forgery, but the whole family knew it was the sacrifice that had led the siblings to survive for another winter that had claimed him.

From there, it was a priority of keeping the younger children safe. Allistor was barely of age at eighteen, and Erin and Cormac at sixteen, with Christian following up at thirteen years old. But nine year old Arthur and two year old Dylan were especially fragile, and with Erin dropping out of school to look after the two of them. The final straw when Cormac had to enter rehabilitation after his drinking became a symptom of his grieving.

Allistor had dreaded to make this decision ever since.

"Cormac…can you look out for the other two? Erin and I need to talk for a little." Allistor said urgently. "I'm sorry, brother, but it's about the holding-"

"No, go ahead, I already said that I know I'm not fit to look after wee Arthur's fate just yet. I'll give you a shout. Think the forms came in today."

"Thanks, that's great." he said hastily, before motioning to Erin to go into the dining room.

* * *

Actually, dining room was too large a word for the room they used to both eat and spend time in as a family. Erin had already sat on the pillow-less couch that served as Allistor's bed and was leafing through the forms, her eyes creasing with every new sentence she read.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked as soon as she watched him walk in with the same green plastic mugs they used every day. "They're practically asking us to sell Artie up until he's eighteen to train him to send him to the palace. Are you _sure_ he's not being reared up for the military?"

"No, that little crown prince and his twin will be of age around the same time Artie will be, hopefully," Allistor said wearily, staring at the little bunged up television they had sitting on their dining table. In muted colour, they had watched Alfred and Matthew's christenings with their dinners in plastic bowls on their laps as a family. Mother had barely been rounded with Arthur yet, and they managed to squeeze all six of them onto the couch. "It's the Deciding batch."

"But if you look at how much they'll pay us every month, I don't think we have much of an option. You really have to stop sleeping on the sofa, Allistor, it's bad for your back." Erin insisted, with a concerned gaze, but he simply nodded.

"Not about me," he said under his breath. "You know Christian won't go, he can't stand the idea of going to the palace and serve. Dylan's-"

"-too young. But still, aren't eight years too much? He'll only be able to come home every three months." Erin said quietly. "I don't think you'd want to marry him off to a _stranger_."

"I hope they won't be when they meet," he replied, but looked a little uncomfortable. "It's the best life we can give Artie while we can."

They sat in silence for a while, leafing through the forms and the information. After a little Erin switched on the television, and found a pen, and they both worked through the form with the low hum of the static television in the background. They only got coverage from around six, where they managed to watch the broadcast with the King and the Jack of Spades. Rumours had flown around in the last week that the Jack's son was to be crowned if the Virus did claim her as well, and the two were looking weary as they trooped onto the stage.

"Queen Piper hasn't been on for two weeks," Erin said worriedly as Allistor began to write onto the forms. "I wonder how bad her sickness is?"

Allistor didn't say anything, but his expression was troubled. He didn't lift his gaze from the papers or his pen, but it was clear that he was listening in.

The queen was definitely a striking figure, but she was not nearly as boisterous as the last couple. Like the countless others born after the great Virus had struck, the King in a Deciding, one that neither sibling had been around to witness, had chosen her to be the new Queen of Spades. She had been from the Diamonds, a musical girl with wealthy parents, short but neat brown hair and bright blue eyes. Of course, as soon as she could toddle Erin cut her mousy hair with a pair of plastic scissors – to their mother's horror - out of clear admiration to the queen.

And this wasn't uncommon – with the inauguration of her as the queen there had been a small boom of babies being born with her name. The same had happened with the birth of Alfred and Matthew, two twins that she had given birth to naturally. Even the neighbours located behind them had named their children, an older and younger brother, Matthew and Alfred after the two crown princes. It had died down after a little while, but as soon as the Mark appeared on Alfred first, thus decreeing him the crown prince and future king, and Matthew's Ace mark shortly after, the rise of Alfreds and Matthews spread all over Cards. Royal babies were definitely a huge fuss.

"Talents," Allistor said, his pen stopping at the blank box. "What are we supposed to say? He's only ten."

"He likes to sing," Erin offered. With all their teasing of their younger brother, they had managed to at least pick _that_ up. "He's a pretty good boy at school, right?"

"His average isn't bad at all. The fact that he's a cry baby?"

"Don't mention that," she snickered.

"Talks to himself."

"You mean those fairies and unicorns he sees. Should we mention Mr Crumpet?"

"No. Let's settle for grumpy."

"He's home," Cormac grumbled from the left side of the house, lost underneath the steam rising from their bunged up pot, and Erin and Allistor jumped up, quickly sheathing the papers back into the envelope.

"We're home!" Christian called, and Arthur followed behind him, a little slow as he was holding his bag of shopping. His thick eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and Erin couldn't help but coo at the cuteness of her little brother.

"Welcome back, you two," Allistor said, roughly scuffing up Christian's hair in an act of fondness. "We're having potatoes tonight, so put your stuff on the kitchen table, okay? Christian, you look after Dylan while Cormac goes back to cook. Arthur…we need to talk."

"Um, okay," Arthur said, kicking the door shut behind him. His arm couldn't reach the door, so he kicked the door close with a bang that made them all wince. "Where?"

"Living room," Erin answered curtly, placing a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Allistor!"

The redhead looked up from the bag of groceries and hastily followed the pair.

* * *

"What?" Arthur blurted, staring at the two of them in disbelief. "What holding facility? But I haven't mucked up any of my schoolwork recently!"

"Did that maths test count?" Allistor reminded him drily, but Erin shoved him with her shoulder and he hissed in complaint.

"Arthur, you know how tight we are for money now. Allistor doesn't even have a bedroom anymore. If his back's hurt, then he can't go and find work like he does now! It's probably the best option we have."

"…" Arthur's face was frustrated, but Erin had to push on.

"I'm sorry, Artie. But I - we don't have any other, safe way to keep our family afloat. We have all these people to look after but only Allistor and Cormac to work since I have to look after you three. Even my odd jobs aren't enough."

"What does this have to do with me? I can't help anyone stuck in a fancy facility like that."

"They're funding us fifty thousand gold per year," Allistor said flatly, and Arthur's green gaze shot up.

"Fifty thousand gold per _year_? That's crazy! Do I really have to only go to their facility and-"

"They'll teach you to go to a palace when you're eighteen. You might go for Spades, or whatever. But they're basically grooming you to be the next Primary Suit member."

Arthur's mouth twisted into a frown. "So basically I'm going to be educated as if we live in the Inner Circles?

"Look, I know you're only ten, but this is an opportunity for you and the rest of the family."

Allistor could still tell that his little brother wasn't convinced, and so he bent down, placing his work – roughened hands on his knees. With a pang, he noticed that he was wearing his hand me down pants. They pooled around his shoes, too long for him.

"You know we've been in need of money after Father and Mother died. Do you remember Beth?"

"How could I forget her?" Arthur said, now a little subdued. "Anyway. I don't want to talk about it. We _don't_ have to mention her, right?"

Beth had been their unborn sister, seven months along when the virus had claimed their mother. Even when Erin had sobbed and Allistor worked overtime for months, coming home at the dead of night, they had barely afforded a separate grave for their little sister and their father a few months later. Arthur had stopped speaking for a month straight. He had holed up in his room and preferred to bottle up his grief, while Cormac took it out on his drink.

"It may just be an opportunity, but it's the best chance we have," Allistor said solemnly. "You can see how Dylan is faring. If he dies of a cot death…"

"What do I have to do?" Arthur asked after a moment, his eyes catching on the fraying edges of the sofa, trying to avoid Erin's weary expression. She had been burdened with recovering from yet another relationship – she had fetched up with a boy three years her elder from around the kindergarten she had done part time work at, which was the most she could afford without neglecting the younger members of the family.

But then, he had started badgering her about her family. Erin tried to evade it for as long as she could, but as soon she had told him the truth about their poverty he had scampered _fast_ , disappearing as fast as the leaves on the pavement during autumn, leaving Erin to feebly reassemble the pieces of her shattered tenfold heart and forget the tear streaks drying on her cheeks again.

"There's an address provided here," Allistor said, fishing out the piece of paper and handing it to him. "I'll take you before I start work at the fisheries on Sunday. You can sleep in the day before and we can get you ready in time, right? I can ask Christian to come pick you up when it's done."

"Is there anything I have to prepare for?" Arthur asked, holding the paper and turning it around reluctantly. "You know. Palace stuff. Primary Suit things."

"Think Erin's still the leading expert on that. You still might have to go easy on her for now, though," Allistor said, before watching his youngest brother go. He allowed himself to take a breather for a moment, and then headed to see to Dylan.

* * *

"Is she doing any better?"

"It's made its way into her immune system, Your Highness," the doctor said quietly, removing her stethoscope from Piper's back, placing the queen back onto the bed before facing King Fitzgerald. "With the aggressive nature it's adopted, she doesn't have much time. I…would you like me to fetch your sons?"

Fitzgerald closed his eyes. Alfred and Matthew were only eleven, the two of them, their beautiful, witty twin boys. Losing their mother…it would change things. With Chun Yan still being healthy despite a few symptoms that kept him awake at night, her son Yao still at the scholars completing his training, and no Ace, as the mark had only appeared on Matthew's skin, it would only be the two of them ruling Spades for seven daunting years.

"No, Doctor," he said, struggling to keep his violet eyes from glassing over. "I must get them myself."

* * *

" _Raargh_ , Matt!" eleven year old Alfred snarled, his chubby arm coming over his head to paw at his brother's curl. "The dragon's gonna come get you!"

"Alfred, I'm _trying_ to finish this," Matthew sighed, the action dislodging his pencil from his eleven-year-old hands and onto his knee. "Come on, it's just a bit of work, and seeing Mother's not feeling so well, I want to do it for her."

"Huh? Well, I guess she wanted us to play too," Alfred said, but stopped short. "Mom would always be playin' with us since Dad's hard at work."

"She's stuck with bed rest for a long, long time," Matthew said quietly, placing down the mess of sums he – well, they – had been allocated for the rest of the week. "I tried pestering Father, but he said they wouldn't let anyone but him in."

"Why?" Alfred groaned, laying himself out on Matthew's lap – his twin wincing due to the…impressive weight. "Just because Dad's super royal and stuff?"

"He's the _King_ , Al," Matthew sighed _again_. "The Fates and the realm don't recognize anyone that's more powerful than he is."

"Like me, like me!" Alfred sang, suddenly leaping up from his lap and carolling around the room, eyes lit up with glee, doing his best to try to forget their mother in that moment. " _I'm_ gonna be king one day, Matt – we're gonna be the best rulers ever! I'm the hero, so I'm gonna have a super cute queen, you'll see, and big brother Yao will be so cool!"

Matthew was about to protest, saying that he didn't want to ascend the throne of Ace so quickly, but at that moment their father burst into their – well, Matthew's, again – room, his eyebrows creased and painted with worry.

"Al, Matt, thank the Fates," he panted – he had definitely been running. "The two of you are here."

"Father!" Matthew gasped, whereas Alfred shouted " _DAD_!" like a heathen and launched himself at his father's legs, cuddling them if he were a monkey gripping onto a swaying branch in the wind. But to his surprise, his father didn't hold him and tuck him into his arms like he usually did, and simply looked at his eyes – the ones Matthew had inherited on top of his meeker nature.

"My boys," King Fitzgerald said gently, prising Alfred from his leg and giving him his left hand and giving Matthew his right. "We have to see your mother now."

"Mother?" Matthew said, his voice a shrinking violet as he gripped onto his father's hand tighter. "Is she finally better?"

"She wants to play with us now, right?" Alfred said, his face lighting up, a hopeful, sunny expression that mirrored Piper's so closely that it hurt Fitzgerald's heart. "She's been really tired, but Mom's all better now, right?"

"…" Fitzgerald didn't say anything – how could he? Their sons deserved to know the truth straight from her lips, and he couldn't take this away from her. They loved her so deeply, as much as she loved them back. So he let silence blanket the three of them as it had blanketed the whole palace, and made his way to the wing of the infirmary.

* * *

"Oh hey, Fitz," were her rasping words as the three of them entered her room together. Piper's brown hair had grown longer in the weeks of her sickness, and now trailed past her ears, hanging dully like fragile branches – but her smile was nothing short of radiant as Fitzgerald ran to embrace her, first and foremost.

"Don't get too close, dear, or Al and Matt will be all over us in a mome-oh, hello, you two minxes," she said, but was abruptly interrupted by Alfred childishly clambering onto the bed, Matthew standing solemnly by their father's side.

"Mom," Alfred wailed, clinging onto her shoulders and hugging her tightly, kicking off his polished shoes and burying his face in her neck. "Mom, I missed you! Matt's no fun to play with as much as you."

"Alfie, my dear," she murmured, patting his blond hair, her blue eyes tinted with sadness as she ran her trembling fingers over his face – not only did he have her eyes, but her tan as well – and gently squeezed his cheek. "I'm really sorry. If I can, I can try to find sometime to…to play."

"Mother, I'm sorry," Matthew began timidly, and Piper placed Alfred onto the space beside her as quickly as her sickness would allow her, reaching for her other son. "I…I should have done better for your sake while you're still – still here…"

"Don't cry, Mattie," she said, laughing a little, even if the sound produced was akin to crackling firewood. "You try your best, for yourself and for the kingdom. I'm trusting you to carry our kingdom forward when I'm gone."

"When you're…what do you mean, Mom?" Alfred said, his alarmed blue gaze reflecting back in Piper's own. "D-Dad said you were only sick…"

"Things change, Alfie," she rasped, patting down the funny cowlick that would never sit right. "Sometimes we don't know how to deal with them. And…I didn't see it coming, but…there's a chance I can't get better."

It _broke_ her heart to see him curl onto himself – her sunbeam of a son, the exuberance and laughter sucked from him from the one sentence that she would take back if she could have spared him from the truth. Alfred started crying, holding onto her in a vicelike grip, and she watched him shake his head, pleading for her to tell him that it was a lie, that she could somehow walk out with Matthew and Alfred hanging off her arms, swinging between her and Fitz like they used to…

And now Matthew was weeping, tears rolling down his little cheeks as he realized that his worst fears were true. Through all the agony she had endured through the Virus, the unending cramps almost as bad as the contractions she had breathed through giving birth, the welts and boils that had festered on her skin, as terrifying as the Deciding itself, this was the defining pain that lodged itself in her heart, knowing that it was by her hand that had drawn forward such grief.

"P-Please, you must be strong, my brave sons," she whispered, bringing Matthew close, not strong enough in that moment to watch Fitz's face. "For your father, for the kingdom, for yourselves. You must be strong."

"Don't go, Mom," Alfred wept piteously, clinging to her, the scent of apples lingering on his skin like it had with her own. "I don't know what to do…I can't be as much of a hero without you."

"No one can be a queen like you," Matthew sobbed, rushing forward into her feeble arms, holding onto her side. "It's going to be so quiet, and Al and I won't know how to rule…Father's so sad…I-I'm so scared…"

"I trust you two and your father," she said clearly, looking at Fitzgerald – the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes made her throat close up. "You will make Spades stronger when I'm gone."

The four of them spent their last evening as a family that night, something that numbed Fitzgerald's heart for the rest of his short days.

* * *

"Hold out your arm, Arthur Kirkland," the doctor chided, Arthur mechanically lifting his bony arm for him to see. The doctor's brown eyes zeroed in on him, and he lifted the clipboard yet again to scribble down notes. After a moment, he asked Arthur to sit down again.

"Well, that's the physical aspect of your check up done. Now, there are a few questions I have to ask – first, would you like to be called Arthur Kirkland or just Arthur?" he said, crossing his legs in the chair opposite his.

"Just Arthur is good enough," Arthur replied, scrunching his fists in his lap. The blue pants he had worn weren't anything attractive but they were presentable.

"Right, Arthur. Well, can I ask first that everything written on the form that you gave at the beginning of the process was written with your consent?" he asked. "I know the paper says that we encourage family members to write things down to avoid self deprecation or bias, but it's important to see that you know what they've written down."

"Yes, sir," Arthur said. Some things about him that were on the paper were things that he didn't think were worthy enough to be mentioned, but Erin had told him it was nonsense.

"On to the next question – why exactly are you looking to join a holding facility here in Hearts?" he continued.

"Well, um, my family aren't always eating as well as they should be. My parents passed away when we were young, and my oldest siblings Erin and Allistor have been looking after us ever since. I want to help them and also…I guess grow as a person?" Arthur said, wincing a little. He hoped he hadn't said something that would strike him out.

"I see," the doctor said, writing something down. "So not only for yourself, but for your family?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur confirmed. "I-I also want to help out with the world. If I could make a difference, being educated, and also give my family a good life, I don't see the problem with a holding facility."

He assumed, naturally, that this was sort of a quality they were looking for in future royals. Even though one might call him selfish, he wanted to look out for his family first and foremost. And if he had to talk about something that he wasn't exactly the most passionate person on the planet about, so be it.

"That's great, young Arthur," the doctor said, and Arthur stiffened a little at being called 'young'. Ten was very much grown up, in his mind – he had a double digit in his age now! "Securing such a strong base is the thing that has allowed our Suits to maintain peace in Cards. Next question – do you have a specific kingdom you have been discussing about when you come of age with your family, perhaps?"

"Erm. My sister and I have been discussing, um, Spades," Arthur said, twisting his index finger with his left hand. "She says that there will be a Deciding around when I turn eighteen…?"

"Correct," the doctor said, writing what he had said down onto his sheet of paper. "However, the kingdom of Spades might be a popular choice for many at our facilities at the end of your education, so would you be prepared to serve after that at possibly a higher school – say, university – and go into the workforce as a servant of the realm or higher positions of work?"

"I would, definitely," Arthur said, nodding. He wasn't nearly as thrilled about Decidings as Erin was, and it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Besides, his family would be living much more comfortably with the funding, and if he got a better, much more well paying job, Dylan could even go to a better school. "Whatever's OK for my condition at the time."

"Great. One more thing that's important for now – are you open to rooming with someone else?" the doctor asked – the tone of his voice suggested that Arthur didn't really have a choice anyway.

"I'm not…opposed to it at all," Arthur said, raising a thick eyebrow – he shared a home with _five_ siblings. If that didn't do his head in, sharing a room with just one person – hopefully – wouldn't be much of a struggle. "I have experience sharing with others, so…"

"Right." the doctor said, scribbling down the last bit of information onto his board and capping his pen with a flourish. "Thank you, Arthur, for your time today. We'll have the results mailed to you sometime in the next two weeks."

"Thank you, sir," Arthur said, relief almost causing him to forget his manners as he slipped off the chair and back out into the autumn wind to a waiting Christian.

* * *

"Stand a little straighter, boys," Fitzgerald said in a hushed tone, hoping that the two of them would be able to hear him. "I'll come and read the two of you a story tonight, if that's what you'd like."

Matthew didn't reply but only moved closer to his side, nuzzling his nose against his father's jacket, whereas Alfred nodded dully. The camerawoman shot a worried look at Fitzgerald, but he simply shook his head.

"All right, for tonight I just want the two of you to sit with me at the Broadcast," he continued. "The kingdom is already heartbroken about Mother's death, so just for tonight, please. I want them to know that the two of you are all right."

What else could he tell them?

"No," Alfred said, and Fitz paused – all the enthusiasm had drained from his voice. He watched his son's fists curl at his side, and knew that there was something very wrong. "I'm not okay. I won't ever _be_! Because Mom's gone, and she's not coming back!"

"Alfred," Fitzgerald tried to embrace his son, but Alfred wasn't having it. Not one jot.

"I want Mom back!" he cried, pummelling at his father's chest with his small fists. Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz noticed Matthew's mouth part with shock, but he continued to hold Alfred in his arms. "Bring her back, Dad! I hate it without her!"

"She's not coming back," Fitzgerald said softly, trying to ignore his heart crying out for his wife. "Al, she can't come back!"

"Make her! You're the king, you can do anything you want!" Alfred said bitterly.

"Two minutes, Your High-" the camerawoman began, but Fitzgerald shook his head – he needed to console his son first and foremost.

Fitzgerald held his son tightly despite his struggles, nestling his hair underneath his chin until Alfred stopped hitting him with his fists and began to sob uncontrollably into his jacket. He could feel the hot tears bleed into his shirt and the trembles that came with each shuddered breath, and it just made the guilt all that much worse.

"I…I can't be her hero anymore," Alfred wept, gripping onto his father as if it were his lifeline. "I don't wanna grow up if she's not here…I'm so scared…"

"Your father will always be here for you and Matthew, Alfred," Fitzgerald said gently, tilting his son's chin high to look at him, violet meeting blue – which stung all the more as Alfred resembled Piper far more than he resembled himself. The same trembling lip whenever he wanted anything was so vividly hers - but this time, it was something Fitzgerald couldn't do for him, even with all the power he had as King. "You know you're always my hero, and that's never going to change, my son."

* * *

"Fates, did you see that Broadcast? So soon after the queen's death, as well," one of the courtiers whispered in the room next to the now abandoned queen's suite. "If he's _this_ strong so quickly, perhaps he's getting ready to announce another Deciding."

"I mean, King Fitzgerald isn't _possibly_ so stupid that he's going to leave Spades with just a King and a Jack to rule? No Ace found, either," another advisor replied, and Fitzgerald had half the audacity to jump out and confront them – not beating them up as Piper would have done but give them a verbal lashing, but stayed silent. What else would they say against him and the kingdom?

"At least the heirs were…all right for the Broadcast," they continued. "Even the Jack herself seems to have latched onto the last traces of the damned Virus in the palace. Reports have been flying around that she can't attend the next Broadcast in a few weeks because she's been short of breath recently."

"Jack Chun-Yan should be locked in her room," another advisor said, her voice harsh as their footsteps slowed and the door to the room next to Piper's suite opened. "The Fates will probably let her spread the damned sickness around to the miserable heirs and the king, and this monarchy will die off for good."

"The heirs didn't look miserable, Tina, but did you _hear_ the crown prince before the Broadcast? Fates, King Fitzgerald is far too soft on him," came the reply, and laughter broke out amongst what Fitz thought to be the trio of advisors and courtiers. "The twerp was blubbering to death, pretending that he was a hero and anything – and his brother's not as bad, but the little thing is such a waif, barely speaks at all! If only the king knew who we were taunting behind his back, he'd surely have our heads on the chopping block."

 _Damn straight,_ Fitz thought coldly, but kept on eavesdropping.

"The child's going to have _such_ a complex when he grows up," he sighed. "We'll have to see that your son shuts it down when he's appointed to the highest advisorship. We have to remind him that not all the power belongs to a bit of gold and a blue mark on his chest. Moving on, did you get an invite to…"

As they snickered away, Fitzgerald walked outside of the room while they were distracted, his skin cool but his mind furious.

No, he wouldn't give them something so merciful as a beheading. He would slowly ensure their demise. Belittle them at court. Dismiss them from their positions and tarnish their reputations. Turn the others against him. If they dared insult his sons, they would have hell to pay.

 _Even if I'm not as good as a parent as Piper will ever be,_ he thought as he strode down the corridor, his blue jacket billowing behind him and his clock swinging around his neck like a pendulum, _I'll protect the two of you for as long as I can._

epilogue

 _Some time later, in an autumn which many would like to forget._

"Don't ask questions, Alfred!" Matthew snapped, fighting back the tears that were brimming in his eyes. "J-Just get me the candle. You lit it for Mother last time, when we were walking down with her coffin."

" _I_ should be the one to do it for Dad," Alfred insisted, his hands trembling on the candle. "I promised to be the hero for him!"

"You're not the _only_ prince here!" Matthew spat, holding the lighter as if it were a lifeline. "Even if you're his heir, it doesn't mean I was less close to him than you were! It's not always about you, crown prince. _Let me honour him, for once!_ "

Alfred was stunned into silence, his mouth drooping. Letting the first tears fall from his face, he gave Matthew the candle and rehung his father's Spade clock over his neck, accepting his position as the future King of Spades. Matthew's violet eyes, those from his father, reflected the blue flame as it lit in the wick of the candle.

They both felt that they wouldn't – they _couldn't_ show weakness as the two royals that they had been raised. Alfred and Matthew had the duty to carry on the blue flame, for their mother and for their father, the people that had protected them up to their final moments.

* * *

"Ah, are you my roommate?" A strange boy with an elegant accent to match his clothes and brown eyes that seemed none the wiser was standing at the doorway of his new residence. "It is a great pleasure. My name is Kiku, of House Honda. What is your name?"

Arthur looked at him, his mouth a little agape in awe, dragging his eyes away from his leather gloves and feeling his own, bare hands tighten on the holding facility provided suitcase.

"Um. My name's Arthur …it's nice to meet you, too. I hope we can get along."

* * *

 _thank you all so much for your support once again! for those who have just stumbled onto it and have no idea what's going on, please find the OG fic 'castle of cards' in my profile!_

 _ **reviews, favourites and follows are what will keep me writing, so please go ahead and leave them!**_


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